Future Tense
by Yeah.Im.That.Kid
Summary: The cycle continues with the first Avatar from United Republic. There's just one problem: since the new Avatar was discovered at 16 five years ago, no one has been able to find her. Then again, with an ever changing and modernizing world, does humanity still need its Avatar? T for Profanity, Violence, and Sexual Themes
1. Minori's Disclaimer

DISCLAIMER:

There is a reason why I'm double majoring in robotics and computer sciences at university and _not _language composition: I am a terrible writer! That stated, if you choose to trudge through this text, and the writing style is anything short of your expectations, don't say I didn't warn you. No seriously, you can end this just by closing this window right now, and pretend like nothing happened.


	2. Minori's Disclaimer, Page 2

I see you decided to continue reading anyway.


	3. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

For as long as I could remember, I would have these vivid daydreams where I imagined myself being an epic hero, in eras where there were still kings, and queens, and emperors, and empresses who actually wielded legitimate power; where there were battles and duels and Agni kais, and there was good and there was evil, and there were spirits and demons, and flamboyant romances. I would imagine all these things and anything else, so long as didn't resemble an insignificant, suburban girlhood, where people only expect of you to be perfect, and sweet, and quiet, and small, and worthless. This was my existence until about a year-and-a-half ago.

It was summer, and I was still sixteen. Upon my parents' insistence, I was going to summer school thrice weekly in the mornings, and to tutoring session twice a week in the afternoons. All of this was in the hopes that I would have a leg up on my peers going into my senior year of high school. I hated it. Sure, I got good grades and the tutoring sessions went well, but I still hated it. What I _didn't _hate was the free time I had afterwards; it was summer recess, after all. Most of this free time was shamelessly spent at the arcade, either playing racing games or single-person shooters. Or riding my bike around town until the streetlights came on. Or taking Biyu, the family _diaogou_, for walks and romps in the park. Each day, I came home blissfully numb from my outings, only to go bed aching with the guilt that I had done nothing.

That was my ritual the first four weeks of summer recess.

* * *

><p>"Minori?"<p>

There was a rapping at my bedroom door. I happened to be staring at the ceiling fan, petting Biyu, who was sprawled across my belly; I had just finished an assignment for summer school that was due the following week.

"Yes dad?"

"You're mom and I," he said, opening my door, "we're going out tonight. Future Industries is celebrating its 100th anniversary and there's a party at the Meigui offices. There's plenty in the fridge and pantry if you want to cook, and money on the counter if you want to go out when you get hungry. Happy studying."

"Okay. Thanks."

He shut the door. I heard the garage door open and shut. One of my friends texted me, saying they and some of our other buddies were going to go play Cuju at the park. I texted back, saying I might go. I stayed in my room another hour before attempting dinner. I took the money from the counter and headed out the front door after I ate. What I didn't finish eating, I added to Biyu's bowl. It was too dusky outside for me to ride my bike safely. So I walked instead. It wasn't like it was far or anything.

About a block from the park, I heard something. Car crash? No. It couldn't be. The sound was too muted, and I didn't hear glass shatter or alarms go off.

There it was again!

And again!

I couldn't help but to be drawn to muffled clashes of violent metal. But where was it coming from?

_Should I follow it? _I thought.

* * *

><p>That was when my journey began.<p>

* * *

><p>I chased those noises, finding myself outside an old, decrepit apartment complex; it had obviously seen better days. The front gate was—conveniently—unlocked. There was a sticky note on the gate code device, saying it was in the process of being repaired.<p>

_Huh…_

I opened it easily, my hand like a gentle breeze. The gate slammed behind me, hard.

_So much for discretion_.

A shiver went down my spine. There were no lights, no smells of dinners being cooked, no sounds of television sets. Save for the muffled crashes I kept hearing, there was no apparent activity here. Where were those crashes coming from anyway? They sounded too familiar. Suddenly, I heard something else, similar to a hoard of people screaming into pillows. Hesitant, cautious, my ears led the way.

_You should be with your friends, Minori, and _not_ getting into this stuff again._

I was now looking at a set of stairs, leading below the complex. "_Laundromat" _read a sign sporting a downward facing arrow. A lump formed in my throat. My stomach knotted. The hair from my neck to my tailbone perked on end. Who would have thought that someone could feel so cold in the dead of summer? I tiptoed into the darkness. The image of an old dog, afraid of going down a flight of stairs, immediately flashed in my mind.

**_HWHAPP_**

I figured I must have lost my footing.

Did I scream, too?

Probably.

What was certain was that I was now at the base of the stairwell, jaw hurting, cheek throbbing, and the palms of my hands, my elbows, and my knees stinging. I felt _sticky_.

The Laundromat door creaked open.

"H'th'f'k'r you?" the silhouette jeered.

_What?_

"I'm," I was attempting to get back up on my feet, "I'm just some kid."

_Wow, that hurts!_

"H'you bettin' on, 'I'm J's' S'm Kid'?"

_Uh…_

"Her?" I reacted, looking at some bug-eyed woman who looked like a competitor for…yup...I knew what this was now.

"H'much dough?"

"I got twenty yuan," I coughed and gave the silhouette the cash. Wasn't this something teenagers are supposed to be good at? Wasting their parents' money?

I entered, and it sure wasn't a Laundromat, not in the slightest. Whatever the room's intended purpose, it was now a crammed, dank, diesel perfumed Robot Fighting Arena, and the next round of Fighters (the robots) and their Handlers (the humans) were coming up into the ring. Not wanting to hurt myself further by jostling my way through the crowd, I leaned against a wall that was as far from the action as possible while still being able to see the match. In one corner was some affluent-looking nerd kid with his elegant robot: a Future Industries Hiro-Droid, seventh generation, their latest model. In the other corner was that bug-eyed, matted haired, greasy skinned woman, along with her excuse of an android. To think I blindly bet twenty yuan on them!

Since I'd never been to one of these illegal functions before—_actually, that's a total lie, I used to compete in them until my parents found out; better them than the police_. All that you law-abiding folks need to know is that there are robots, and people controlling said robots. Someone would win. Someone would lose. Somehow money is involved. They're also very, _very _loud events.

In spite of the deafening roars, I could still pick out bits and pieces of what nearby people were saying to each other.

"How does she _do_ that?"

"A 'bot that old? Ha! There should be a cable running from it to the controller."

Whoever said that was right. The bug-eyed woman's android was _easily _thirty years old, if not older, ancient for a robot. I now felt more inclined to pay attention to the match. And that's when I spotted it, a detail that non-Handlers would easily miss. The bug-eyed woman wasn't really using her controller, just pretending to press her "零" and "一" buttons. But then...the robot...that would mean...was it...possible? It couldn't be...

The match ended quicker than I thought it would, the bug-eyed woman's victory being followed by a cascade of boos.

_Twenty yuan well spent._

Before the crowd could revolt, the master of ceremonies (perhaps the silhouette at the door? Their builds were the same) demanded that the audience leave the premises quietly, without drawing any attention to themselves. He didn't want another police bust. They left. I waited for more people to leave, hoping that my pain would subside. It didn't. In fact, it got _a lot_ worse. Now, it was just the master of ceremonies, the bug-eyed woman, her robot, and me. He gave her her prize. He told her what he had told the crowd earlier, then looked at me.

"J's S'm Kid. You leavin'?" he barked.

_So they _are_ the same person._

"Uh...she's with with me, Phung," said the bug-eyed woman, pretending to press buttons on her watch-like controller (her voice was shockingly articulate and professorial, regal even). Her robot then trudged toward me, lumbering like an oaf, then cradled me in its coiled arms. I should have been terrified by all of this, but I was too sore to care.

"G'night," said the master of ceremonies, "and don't get caught again, miss."

The bug-eyed woman nodded, did more fake button pressing, and we made our way up the stairs. Now on ground level, her robot gently placed me down; she wasn't pressing buttons this time.

"You alright kid?" the bug-eyed woman asked me; she smelled of decay. "Looks like you fell down the stairs?"

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to nod or shake my head.

"Anyway, hold still," and she whipped the moisture from the air into orbs of water. With a few subtle hand gestures, the orbs of water were sinking into my wounds. I grimaced, biting my lip. A tear streaked down my face. With that my pain was gone. So were the scrapes and the bruises. I was dumbfounded.

"Thank you," I said, but she and her robot vanished by then. I thought I would never see her again.

I thought…


	4. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I remember running home, hoping my parents weren't back from Meigui looking for me—like they'd even care in the first place, _ha!_ But I liked to imagine they genuinely cared about me. I unlocked the front door only to find Biyu curled up on the couch, squeaking and squealing with delight as I came in. Other than her, no one was home.

"Come here, sweetie!" I cooed to her. Biyu leapt from her perch on the sofa, scuttling her way up my legs and into the crook of my arm. For what was essentially a dog-sized ermine, Biyu more or less resembled a sack of marshmallows, and weighed about the same.

"Who's my widdle baby, who's my widdle baby, who's my widdle baby diaogou?" I chanted with a bounce in my step, scratching Biyu's chin as I went up the stairs to my room. I let her down on the floor, hoping she would go to _her _pillow as I rummaged through drawers, looking for pajamas to change into.

"Biyu, should I take a shower?" I said, turning around only to find Biyu on my bed, camouflaged in my menagerie of stuffed animals. "I wish I can get mad at you, but I can't, girl."

I went across the hall to the bathroom, hearing the door downstairs unlock itself.

_Mom? Dad? But they would come through the garage._

I paused before going down the stairs. Maybe my head was playing tricks on me. I was home alone, and I had had a rather bizarre night. I tried convincing myself that it wasn't a big deal.

But then I heard footsteps.

_Oh no…_

Thinking it was burglar, I snatched an old cricket bat from the hall closet, stormed down the stairs and—

"Good evening."

It was the bug-eyed woman, sitting on the couch, legs crossed.

"Why are you here? And how'd you get inside? I locked the door," I lowered the bat to my side.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safely, 'I'm Just Some Kid'. As for the door...meh, I won't tell you my secret," she chuckled, brandishing a cigarette from her shirt pocket, lighting it. As much as I despise cigarette smoke, it improved her overall smell. I wanted to be angry at this scenario, and at her. I wanted to call the police, to call my parents. But I couldn't bring myself to do any of those things. She _healed_ me for goodness sake, and a night in jail would be the worst way to repay her.

"I don't mean this to offend you, but," I wanted to make sure I worded this without insulting her, "you're…you're free to take a shower, or a bath…um…upstairs…yeah…Butbequickbecausemyparentswillbehomeanytime!"

"You're folks aren't coming home tonight," she said. Then, right on cue, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Missed call. Fifteen minutes ago. From mom. I listened to the voicemail on speaker phone:

"Hi, Minni dear. Looks like we_—te he he—_had a leeeeetle too much fun at the office party. We're spending the night with a co-worker at their house. But don't worry, we'll be back in the morning. Take caa_aaa_re."

The bug-eyed woman gave me an _I-told-you-so _look.

"As I said, the shower is upstairs. You can also take a bath if you want," I said. "Oh, and-and if you're hungry at all, we have onigiri in the refrigerator. They're big, too. I can microwave some. And, uh, if you need anything, I can maybe get it for you?"

She stood from the couch, trying to hold back her laughter.

"You're a dork, kiddo. It's charming. Do you have a spare towel?"'

_She called me kiddo._

I nodded, mentioning there was a whole basket of extra towels in the upstairs bathroom. She smiled as she left the sitting room, the odor of decaying plant matter and cigarettes leaving with her, as if she were never in the room.

* * *

><p>I really should have figured it out by then, who she was, what she was capable of.<p>

* * *

><p>In the time it took me to take the onigiri out of the fridge to them finishing in the microwave, the bug-eyed woman had showered and completely dried off; even her once tattered, mud caked clothes were spotless, like new. She was now walking down the stairs, accompanied by Biyu.<p>

_That was quick_. I remember thinking.

"Thank you," she said. I offered her the onigiri, but she declined.

"Take at least one," I said, and she did. "Um, hey, you have a place to stay? With my parents not coming home and all, you could stay the night? Maybe? Or would that be weird?"

"Look, kid, I…I-I don't want to overstay my welcome here. Besides, I need to get going. The robot's probably wondering where I went.

"Thank you again. This is delicious, by the way."

I waved her goodbye as she walked out the door.

* * *

><p>The following days went without incident. There was nothing eventful or worth committing to memory, other than the impending ends to both summer school and the tutoring sessions, which I now remember looking forward to with an unhealthy passion.<p>

All that while, I couldn't stop thinking about that bug-eyed woman and her possibly sentient robot. But more so the woman. She haunted me, and permeated my thoughts. Wherever I went, I felt as if she were both nowhere and everywhere. I was starting to think she was a phantom.

_You're only thinking she's a ghost because it's the Ghost Month_, I kept telling myself. The thought made me feel sad inside. Perhaps she was a hungry ghost, and wanted someone, anyone, to give her offerings and love; her family must have been killed off somehow, or her death was unsavory, or…

_You're only thinking she's a ghost because it's the Ghost Month._

_You're only thinking she's a ghost because it's the Ghost Month._

_You're only thinking she's a ghost because it's the Ghost Month._

_You're only thinking she's a ghost because it's the Ghost Month._

In par with the annual traditions, my parents and I were planning a trip to the village of Obon in the United Earth Federation, where my father's ancestors were from. As we always did, we went to clean the ancestral graves on the plot, give them offerings, and also to reunite with my paternal extended family. That particular year, I _think_ we left the day after I finished summer school, or was it right after my last tutoring session? Oh yeah! That's right!

My parents picked me up from my final tutoring session with a week's worth of luggage stuffed into the trunk of the station wagon. Waiting for me in the back seat was Biyu, sleeping peacefully in her crate.

"Who are we staying with this time?" my mom asked.

"My sister," said dad.

The rest of the car ride was eerily quiet, mostly because both mom and Biyu were asleep. Dad isn't much of a talker. As for me, I was going between looking at the ocean on the Southbound Highway and sketching android designs. We stopped for dinner in thecity of Tian Tu Hai to refuel the car, eat dinner, and to have Biyu do her business, only to hit the road again.

"When does the sat navigation say we'll reach the border by?" I asked.

"Around seven," mom said. However, ten til seven, and traffic on the main highway came to a stop. Apparently, a lot of people were traveling out of United Republic for the Ghost Festival.

_I knew we should have flown this year_, I thought. I was probably asleep by the time we hit the checkpoint, and in the hours following. But around nine o'clock or so, I awoke to a ghastly jolt. Biyu squealed in her crate.

"Welcome to Tai: the Rice State," my dad chuckled, followed by an uncomfortable grown. From that point on, the roads were a nightmare. It felt more like sailing over rough waters than driving on solid ground. Poor Biyu, she threw up in her crate because the roads were so bad. We stopped the car, just to wipe out her vomit. Refusing to back into the crate, she clung to my torso with her life. Thankfully, she didn't throw up or need to do her business for the rest of the trip, which wasn't long anyway. By midnight, we were at my Aunt's house.

"You must have had a long journey," she commented as we slugged through the door, suitcases in tow. As well as my own bag, I was carrying both Biyu and her crate. Not even a moment after my Aunt showed me to where I'd be sleeping, I crashed into the futon on the floor. Biyu, like a burr, was still attached to me as I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>I was fourteen again. I was in the shed out back, working on <em>Airen, _my beloved fighter robot of two years now. She may have been a jumble of different parts from different android models, each belonging to different manufacturers, but she was _mine, _my _one _and my _only. _I had created her myself. But after this last round of fights, she was in bad shape and in desperate need of repairs. I knew I would need to act fast, though, before my parents returned home from work._

_The door creaked open._

_I yelped from my workstation, only to see that it was my older brother, Ichiro. What would he think of all of this?_

_"She's beautiful, sis," he perked, slowly walking toward me, but looking at my Airen. _

_"Thank you," I blushed. "Hey, I thought you weren't coming home from university 'til next month."_

_"Yeah," he shrugged, still mesmerized by my Airen, "but things happen. You need help with her? She looks a little beat up." _

_"No!" I retorted. He respected my response._

_"Kiddo, you wanna come back in for a bit? It would be nice to catch up," he smiled at me._

_"Ichi, I still need to fix her!"_

_ Then there was a time leap. I was back in the shed, four months later. Dad was standing over what was left of Airen. He'd beaten her to pieces with the cricket bat._

_ "Dad! How could you? Why?" _

_ Something then pulled me back, dragging me into a wormhole._

_ I was now running down a corridor at school, rushing to the principal's office. The door flung open like magic. I was hovering in an empty, white space. I was alone in there. I was now transported to my brother's hospital room, hovering above his broken, comatose body.  
><em>

_ "Miss Ibara, we are sorry to inform you…"_

_ It was the voice of the principal. How did I get back to his office so quickly.  
><em>

_ "We are sorry to inform you that…"_

_ I was in the hospital room again, now being dragged into his electrocardiograph._

_Beep, beep, beep, beep._

_"...your brother..."_

_Beep, beep._

_"He's dead."_

_Flatline._

* * *

><p>I woke up, my throat straining and my mouth shaped for a scream. Nothing came out. The room was bathed in all blues from the morning twilight. Biyu stared at me from the edge of the futon. I stretched out my arms, her cue to leap into them. I held her close.<p>

"Who's my widdle baby, who's my widdle baby, who's my widdle baby diaogou?"

* * *

><p>Scared of falling back asleep, I clipped on Biyu's leash and went for a stroll, (or a "sniff 'n' piss" as Ichiro jokingly referred them as), wandering through the property and down into Obon proper. All was quiet. At sunrise, we headed back to my Aunt's, passing farmers already hard at work. Now back at the house, I took a seat on the back stoop, looking out over the valley and the ever-rising sun. Biyu, on the other hand, was trying to eat gnats and mosquitos mid-air, her form wriggling through the air with each ambitious leap. The door behind me slid open.<p>

"Morning, Minni."

"Morning mom."

She sat beside me on that stoop, sipping her tea. We both watched Biyu for a while before speaking again.

"I heard you get up in the middle of the night."

"And?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah."

"Bad dream?"

"Sort of."

"Need to talk about it?"

"No."

She respected my response.


	5. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Aside from the steady stream of relatives arriving, the rest of that day was uneventful, and by sundown, most of the family that could make the trek was present. The night itself was marked with plenty of small talk, laughter, catching up, and a game of pai sho in the living room, boys versus girls. The uncles were taking shots in the kitchen, and the aunts were chatting quietly amongst themselves. As for myself, I was outside, rocking in a hammock of vines that long ago engulfed the curved, creep-stricken trunk of a palm tree. Initially, I had come outside to read and avoid certain relatives, but I was too distracted by the awesome beauty of the night sky.

I was mesmerized most of all by the moon. It made me think of Princess Yue, who at sixteen gave up her humanity to become the moon. It made me think of Prince Iroh, Dragon of the West, who at sixteen became the youngest person in Fire Nation history to earn the rank of Captain. It made me think of his father before him, who at sixteen ordered an attack on the Northern Water Tribe, and _his _father before him, who at sixteen inherited an island empire that would one day span the globe. It made me think of a girl, who at sixteen ended a war between two villages after her lover died, and eventually founded Omashu. It made me think of a boy, who at sixteen stole the power of fire from a lion turtle, and eventually became the first Avatar. _I _was sixteen, and my only notable accomplishments had been testing out of middle school and winning a couple robot fights. I rolled over in the hammock, facing the house rather than the night sky. I felt inadequate. I drifted off to sleep and dreamed of the moon.

* * *

><p>The following morning, I awoke in the hammock, soaking wet from the rain and covered in bug bites. Nauseous from the pain, I plodded my way back inside the house and slumped into my futon, still drenched. Biyu punished me with a series of pathetic whines, whimpers, and snarls. It didn't help either that she started to pounce on my torso within seconds of me lying down. Eyes now closed, I debated going back to sleep. But the house was too quiet for sleep, and the whispers of rain outside felt too loud. Louder still were the sounds of snoring, coming from my cousin (whom I just realized I was sharing a room with).<p>

There was one sound I heard that seemed pleasant enough, that of tuneful humming, accompanied by the lovely smells of simmering soup and fish being cooked. Sluggishly, I walked out of the room towards the kitchen, Biyu not far behind.

"Good morning," said my Aunt as I approached her, "I saw that you slept outside. How was that?"

"Well, Aunt Hoseki, it was…" I scratched my neck, "interesting. Do you need any help?"

"Some. You mind getting the rice set up in the cooker? Everything else is taken care of. People should be waking up soon, too," she requested. "It's always a treat to do this, cooking breakfast for everyone when they come over."

"Aunt Hoseki."

"Yes?"

"The people from Oban are, ethnically, _Kyoshian_, correct?"

"Yes."

"But Oban is in the middle of the _Luuhtu_ homeland."

"Well," she sighed, coyly biting her lip, "as you know, Avatar Kyoshi broke off from the mainland in order to protect her tribe—_our _tribe—from Chin the Conqueror's armies. Now, we've always been a self-reliant, resourceful bunch. But in the early years of the island's formation, our people had trouble producing rice. The new climate was just too cold, dry, and rocky for proper cultivation. So, we needed to import the stuff, but that became problematic very quickly. You see, the ruling dynasty was _not _happy with the Kyoshi's breaking away; they misconstrued it as an act of secession from the Earth Kingdom. As punishment, a tariff was placed on _all _rice exports.

"But we were, are, and always will be a resourceful people. So a plan was devised to get around the tariff, albeit an illegal one. A group of brave farmers and Kyoshi warriors went scouting for land viable for rice cultivation that was still isolated enough for their activities to go unnoticed. They eventually found this land, which was formerly a Luuhtuan rice-farming village. It had been abandoned during the raids of Chin the Conqueror…"

"So," I just turned on the rice cooker, "you're saying Oban was founded to _bootleg _rice."

"In a way, yeah, though I wouldn't use the term _bootleg _in this insta—oh shit! Sorry, I accidentally burnt this fish. Dammit—what was I saying?"

"You don't like the term _bootlegging _when it comes to illegally cultivating and transporting rice."

"Yes—at least I only burnt _one _fish and not _all _of them, there's that but—gosh, what was I gonna say? Oh, and Minni could you please get the other condiments from the refrigerator? Thanks dear."

As she was saying this, some of my cousins and an uncle or two began to gather around the dining table. My parents trailed out of their room next, followed by the rest of the family. Random cousins helped set the table, prepare tea, and such. Everyone sat together at the table for breakfast, but not my Aunt. Though in plain view from the dining table, she slumped against the counter in the kitchen watching us. She ate the burnt fish.

After plates were cleared, washed, and set to dry, my Aunt called my dad and I over.

"Come into town with me," she said, almost sweetly despite it being more of an order than a request. "There are some things I need to pick up. Groceries, my prescriptions, things like that."

I rushed back to my room to change my clothes. Despite it being a humid summer day, I had the audacity to wear a pair of boots, tall socks, and a long-sleeved dress—I didn't want to risk more bug bites, even if that meant feeling sickeningly warm.

We took a more scenic route into the village proper, which I personally enjoyed. Dad on the other hand—

"Isn't there a quicker way to get into town? One that at least involves a car?"

"Hotaka, I can't drive anymore. You've known that!"

Once in the village, we made our way down the street toward the pharmacy. Not even through the door, I felt something slip into my pocket.

"Go get something nice," Aunt Hoseki mouthed, she and my dad disappearing into the pharmacy. I felt around in dress's pocket.

_It's money…a lot of money…_

I then remember walking into a bookstore that was across the street. Upon entering, I was greeted to drone of fans, and to the smells orange wood-polish, cinnamon, and the musk of ancient paper. As I perused aisle upon aisle of used books, vinyl records, and compact discs, something caught my eye. In the discount bin, there was a tattered, leather-bound book with no evidence of it having a title. I was afraid of touching it, the poor book looking like it could disintegrate with a tap.

"Good afternoon, miss!" I heard an elderly voice calling to me. "Looking at anything in particular?"

"Yeah," I replied, and then pointed at the book. "What is this?"

"Hmmm…Oh my!" he picked up the book gingerly from the pile, delicately turning each page. "Goodness, this looks like a first edition, too. These are extremely rare. Wow, who would have turned such a _treasure_ in to us?

"This is _The Dragon's Memoir,_ by General Iroh of the Cheng Si dynasty. _The _General Iroh of the Cheng Si dynasty. Oh that's right, there were _two_ of them. You look bright, so I figure you'll know which Iroh I'm referring to," he had a light chuckle to his voice as he said that. "Seeing that it's less than a yuan, would you like to purchase?"

I nodded. As I followed the elderly man up to cash register, there was a question I was tempted to ask him.

"The people from Oban are, ethnically, _Kyoshian_, correct?"

"Believe so."

"But Oban is in the middle of the _Luuhtu_ homeland."

"You _are _bright. It's quite the story," he began, and as he rang up the book, he went on to tell a very different tale than the one my Aunt told, about how the Hitobito (the original name of the Kyoshian people) were separated from each other during the raids of Chin the Conqueror, "though most stayed with Avatar Kyoshi, some hid away in the swamps, others hid away in the mountains, some even escaped via Fire Nation merchant ships, but more still were abducted—or worse—by Chin. " It created a diaspora of the Hitobito, he explained. One group of the Hitobito found themselves in Luuhtu territory, where the local people took them in. Over time, their cultures and customs merged together.

"And that's how Oban was founded?" I asked to confirm.

"As far as I know, yes," he said. "Would you like the book in a bag?"

* * *

><p>It was relatively quiet back at the house, other than the hissing of the drizzle outside and the chatter of relatives inside. Much of my afternoon was spent <em>not<em> reading _The Dragon's Memoir_, but rather the book I had been reading the night before: _On Quantum Cosmology _by Meihui Aippaq-Mudan. As I was reading a particular passage ("Is Spacetime Continuous or Granular?"), my cousin Akemi barged into the room.

"Hey Minori! Chiasa thought she saw a ghost outside. Some of us are gonna go check it out. Wanna come with?"

"Sure!"

By that time the rain had stopped, and I was entertained by the thought of enjoying the outdoors with my cousins. Besides, Biyu needed a walk. So she and I followed my curious band cousins into the brush. By this time in the evening, the last wisps of sunlight were now only visible on the bellies of stray clouds, and my cousins looked like silhouettes as they ran and frolicked against the richly dark, saturated rainbow of a sky. It was simply beautiful.

"Aito stop it! You're scaring me! "

"Stop being a wuss, Hisao! We haven't even seen a dark spirit!"

"Will you two cut it out? If there _are _ghosts, you're scaring them off."

"Hey guys! Look!"

We stopped with a sudden jolt, as not to tumble down the side of a hill. Resting in trees, playing in the grass, floating around us like fire flies, were benign woodland spirits of all shapes, colors, and sizes. I almost never saw spirits in cities (save for that one time I stumbled across an akaname when we went to move in Ichiro at university). But here they were, surrounding us in every direction, enjoying their evening as much as we were. In that moment, a feeling of _true_ awe welled up inside of me. Too bad Biyu was attempting to catch and eat one of the glowing orb spirits.

"Bad girl!" I hissed, yanking her from the ground before the spirit could be harmed. "Bad, bad, BAD, bad girl!"

But almost as soon as we had arrived, the spirits vanished, evaporating into the air and into the landscape.

"Come on back!" I heard Aunt Hoseki holler, "Dinner is ready!"

And my cousins slugged their way back to the house, disappointed that the spirits weren't present for longer. However, I couldn't bring myself to move from that spot, with Biyu still pressed against my chest. I wanted the spirits to come out again. Or maybe.

_Maybe they're still out there. Just...elsewhere?_

I placed Biyu back on the ground, then giving her leash a tug.

_I wonder..._

Before I could consciously register my surroundings, Biyu and I had made our way down the hill, followed a winding path through a dark, tropical wood, and were now at the base of a tangle of vines and tree roots that, over hundreds and hundreds of years, were teased and manipulated into a natural bridge. It started to rain, no, it started to _pour_ as we stood there, just staring out into the impossible darkness. Then, like magic, orb spirits began to appear. I don't think I could sufficiently describe to you what it was like, to be sopping wet deep in a dark forest being enveloped in a golden, holy glow. And that rain, my _stars, _that rain was epic! Even if I _were_ a language composition major-let alone a half decent writer-words would still fail.

* * *

><p>That euphoric moment wasn't going to last.<p>

* * *

><p>Following the lights, Biyu and I scampered across the bridge and deeper into the wilds, not caring that it was dinner time, that it was dark outside, that it was pouring rain, that Biyu and I were dripping wet. As long as the spirit orbs were watching over us, I didn't care what was happening.<p>

_gr grk_

Something echoed through the trees. Something _metallic. _

_Gr grk_

It was getting closer to us.

_Gr Grk_

We froze in our tracks.

_GR Grk_

"Baby, what did I get us into?"

_GR GRk GR GRK_

I grabbed up Biyu and went running toward where I thought the bridge was.

_GR Grk Gr Grk Gr GRK  
><em>

The spirits were gone. Without them, there was no light.

_GR Grk Gr Grk GR GRk GR GRK_

"Who's my widdle baby, who's my widdle baby-"

_GR Grk Gr Grk GR GRk GR GRK GR GRRRK  
><em>

"Who's my little baby, Diaogo-_aaaaeeeek_!"

_Grk Grk GRk Gr gk_

Though dark, I could sense that I was now upside down, and that my foot had been caught in something.

_Gr grk_

Biyu had scurried up my leg.

"Come on girl! Don't leave me! He_eeeee_lp!"

_Gr grk gr grk greeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

There were now a pair of glowing spotlights, like eyes, staring down at me.

"Hello. I see you need help. Take my hand."

There was no way that this could be, and yet it was the _only _thing it could be.

It was the bug-eyed woman's robot.


	6. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I was too petrified to move, despite knowing that being upside down any longer could possibly kill me. For reasons unknown, the robot seemed to sense these fears, and rather than try to reach for my hand, the robot clasped their cold, rusted, nubby fingers around my ankles, gently pulling me up from the roots my legs had been entangled in. Then like a parent placing their child in a crib, the robot set me back on the ground. I was too dumbfounded to say "thank you", much less anything.

"Are you not _Just Some Kid_?" the robot remarked.

"It's Minori, actually. Minori Ibara," I finally said, and then asked, "Do you have a name?"

"Yes!" the robot perked, "I call myself Hajime."

"Did your creator name you?"

"No. _I _named me. Do you not listen?"

The orb spirits reappeared, radiating much needed light in the darkness of the jungle. Startled by this, Biyu scurried up Hajime, finally resting on one of his broad shoulders.

"Does your giant weasel have a name?" he asked, petting her as we began to walk across the bridge of vines and roots. It was still pouring rain.

"Her name is Biyu, for her eye color," I responded.

"Is she soft?"

"Very. You don't feel then?"

"I cannot feel textures. But emotions? Yes. I can feel those."

To think that I was now having an actual conversation with a robot was surreal, and the more we talked, the more I thought of Airen. I missed her.

"Where is your creator?" I asked.

"I do not know. I have not seen him in 35 years."

"_Him_? That long ago?"

"You thought Ikraam was my creator?"

_So _that's_ the bug-eyed woman's name: Ikraam_.

"Oh…"

"It is okay. You did not know this information. Now you do."

Although Hajime lacked anything resembling a mouth, I could almost feel him _smiling _at me. He only kind of resembled a person, if you define a person as having a head, a neck, two arms, two legs, and a torso. At seven feet tall, Hajime was an intimidating size without _being _intimidating in disposition. His head looked like an elongated dome, with what seemed to be old, mismatched headlights for eyes. He had a skinny little stump for a neck, which complemented his gangly legs; both were in stark contrast to his barrel drum torso. His arms were his most striking feature being that they were disproportionally long, and were more reminiscent of tentacles than human arms. Each tentacle-like arm sported a large stubby hand with nubs for fingers. Looking at Hajime, I imagined an impoverished kid rummaging through heaps of trash looking for whatever could be salvaged in order to make him.

_How I made Airen wasn't so different. Hey, I wonder…_

"Who made you, Hajime? Do you remember?"

Silence, then he spoke, "…A young man made me, but I think he is old now."

"Did he like you?"

"Not for long. Once I was…aware? He became afraid of me. He tried to destroy me. He called me a monster. I ran away."

"I'm so sorry."

"It is okay. You did not know this information. Now you do."

We were now back at my Aunt's house, and it had just stopped raining. Hajime looked as if he was about to leave.

"Hey, before you go—"

"What is it, Minori?"

"About Ikraam, where is _she_?"

"I cannot say," he paused, "because I am not sure where she could be. Good night."

Biyu and I waltzed through the front door not long after that, the both of us drenched and reeking of vegetation. I saw that my relatives were in some sort of disarray, as if they were in a hurry to leave somewhere. I didn't see my parents.

"Guys! It's alright! She's here!" said an aunt. Aunt Hoseki rushed in to hug me.

"Oh my goodness, Minori are you okay? We were going to make a search party to look for you," she gasped.

"We got worried that you fell or something," said Aito.

"And like, if you were in a pit, Uncle Tsubasa was so ready to earthbend you out!" Chiasa said.

"Ah man! I never get to earthbend back home!" Uncle Tsubasa shouted from, I'm guessing, the bathroom.

"I'm okay, thank you. I lost grip of Biyu's leash. She ran off. When I found her, she was trying to eat an orb spirit!" I half-lied. "That's what took so long. But we're okay."

There was a collective sigh of relief in the room. Then my mom walked out.

"Goodness gracious, honey," she came over to me, "you're wet."

_No shit, mom. No. Fucking. Shit._

* * *

><p>The days leading up to Ghost Day were filled with reading books (I had finally started <em>The Dragon's Memoir<em>), adventures through the woods, trips into town with cousins, eavesdropping on drunken conversations had by older relatives, and plenty of summer rain. There were not, however, sentient robots, bug bites, supernatural encounters, moon dreams, or anything out of the ordinary.

On the Eve of Ghost Day, the aunts helped prepare food and offerings. The Uncles, my dad, some other cousins, and myself went to gather ghost paper. At sunset, we kicked off the festivities telling stories of deceased relatives and exaggerated tales of childhood memories. Food was eaten. Alcohol was drunk. At midnight, we set out to the gravesite in a procession, gathering food, incense, flowers, and money for offerings. Each of us was assigned a headstone to clean and decorate. I happened to get my late Uncle Hyuuga; my parents got Ichiro. I couldn't help but watch them tend to his grave. It seemed as if there was a lack of care as, a sense they just wanted to get it over and done with.

I still feel as if my parents—more than anyone realizes—were so damaged by Ichiro's premature death, that they became apathetic not just towards me, but towards their dead son too. Perhaps their thinking was if they didn't care so much about their kids that what had happened to Ichiro wouldn't hurt so deeply. They used to be good parents…good enough of parents that it actually annoyed my brother and me. What can I say? Loss does things to people. And, damn, if it's your kid…I don't think I can possibly conceive what that would feel like. But that doesn't mean that grief should get in the way of doing what you're supposed to, which is being _my **parents**_, mom and dad, and to think you _still _don't get this after over three stinking years of Ichiro being dead! Don't you care about me, your daughter? Don't you care about _what's happened_ to me, your _only_ daughter? Don't you care that I ended up dropping out of high school? That I quite literally went through hell and back? That I almost died a couple times in the last eighteen months? That I _still _got accepted into the best engineering program in United Republic _and _got a full ride scholarship, in spite of everything? Or is being aware and giving a damn about the one child you have left on this planet too much to ask of you?

* * *

><p>I'm sorry, readers. I got ahead of myself for a second. Back to the story.<p>

* * *

><p>While some of the older relatives decided to stay up for longer, most everyone else opted for going to bed, myself included. I remember falling into a deep sleep within moments of falling into bed, only to startle myself awake from sort of dream, finding myself freezing cold, sweating, and oddly tense. I could see the shadows of raindrops tumbling down the windowpane. Crackles of lighting flared through the window, followed by a thunder that shook the room. I heard something stumbling through the back door. <em>Someone<em> rather. They seemed to be having an intense, but hushed, argument with someone.

I was restless on the futon, trying to figure out what was being said. How could I though? Everyone sounds the same when they whisper! All I could make out through the wall and the sounds of rain and lightning were: "But you were _attacked._ Please let me help you!"

The thought of falling back asleep terrified me. How ironic then that what felt like seconds later, I was being woken up by my Aunt.

"Minori, it's 11:15. Sleep well?"

I noticed a scab on her chin.

* * *

><p>Some time that afternoon, I found myself out on the vine hammock, reading <em>The Dragon's Memoir<em>, when an old van—an orange Horizons Nomad, to be exact—jolted to a halt on the dirt road below, a plume of white smoke billowing from beneath the hood. My intention was to leave the hammock and head inside the house, hoping that a relative or someone would be willing to help that poor driver. Instead, I fumbled off of the hammock and found myself tumbling down the hill until a metallic foot stopped me from rolling into the road.

"Hajime?" I said, squinting my eyes from the bright sunlight.

"Hello Minori!" the robot exclaimed as he assisted me back on to my feet.

"Haji, who are you talking to? Could you help me, please? Haj? I could really use a hand right now," said a familiar, feminine voice. The smoke that had been billowing from beneath the hood suddenly dissipated, as if pushed to the side. And there she was. Ikraam, bug-eyed as ever. We stared at each other in disbelief. Despite it being less than a month since I last saw her, she almost looked like a completely different person. She had cut her obsidian hair since we first met. Though worn slicked back, I could still see hints of her naturally wavy hair in the wispy strands that even the forces of pomade could not hold down. Her skin, especially on that sunny day, glowed with the brilliance of polished teak. Ikraam looked clean, healthy, _alive_. As she approached me, I noticed she smelled of anise and jasmine.

"Funny, seeing you again, _Just Some Kid,_" Ikraam hesitated, scratching her earlobe. "What brings you out here?"

"I was gonna ask _you_ the same thing," I chuckled, then said, "Family reunion, to answer your question. How about you?"

"Well," she then took a long pause, "It's complicated. "

There was another long pause.

"Minori! Who is that?"

It was my dad, shouting from the top of the hill. I hollered back, "Her Nomad broke down! But I—"

For some reason, my father saw this as his cue to come down to examine the van, a rather bold move on his part. An accountant by trade, he knew nothing about machinery. For some reason, he had always reveled in feigning expertise. This wasn't going to go well.

"Good afternoon, sir," Ikraam said to my dad. He rushed right past her, flinging the hood of the Nomad open. He didn't even ask if it was okay to do so.

"You need me to help you?" he asked, giving stern looks to the van, convinced looking at the old thing would somehow fix it.

"No. But maybe? I mean, this _is _something I can handle—"

"Are you sure? This looks pretty serious," my dad said, his voice slightly drifting off. Embarrassed as I was, I felt much worse for Ikraam. My father was simultaneously 1) assuming she had no idea what she was doing, all while 2) pretending to _have_ an idea of what he was doing. Part of me was hoping Ikraam would smack him, or use some feat of bending. By that point my father had earned it. But Ikraam had something better in store for him…

"Not to disrespect you, sir," she began, "but are you going to continue to pace around my Nomad, pretending to figure out what's wrong with it? Or are you _actually _going to help me?" Ikraam's tone of voice was laden with frightening levels of intimidating sass, but was every bit as professorial and articulate as I remembered. My father blushed, but his look of shame didn't last for long. He turned his head toward me, slowly, and gave me the _look_. The same one he gave after dismantling Airen.

_I wish I had a cricket bat._

"My sister is from around here. She'll know of a mechanic," he started to write a text as he spoke, doing his very best to avoid eye contact, "I'm going to see if she has their phone number..."

Not even five seconds after slipping the phone into his pocket, we could hear Aunt Hoseki screaming from the back porch.

"Hotaka! You lazy son of a bitch! I'm less than fifty feet away from you, and you **_text _**me? Instead of getting your fat old ass back up that hill to talk to your twin **_sister_**? Face-to-face?"

Prior to that moment, I had never seen my dad move so quickly! Albeit a harsh remark, he deserved it. I imagined relatives (save for my mother, obviously) outwardly scolding my Aunt while inwardly congratulating her. Once my father was out of ear shot, Hajime, Ikraam, and I began talking again.

"Who was that dreadful man?" Hajime asked.

"That's…_ugh_…my father," I groaned. "Sorry. He's okay most of the time, but…_yeah._"

"Let's move on," Ikraam suggested. "Now, you—Minori, is it? Ikraam—you look like a little gear head. A rather girlie one, but a gear head just the same. You think you could give me an idea of what's wrong with my Nomad?"

I shrugged in place of saying "yes." The hood was still propped open from when my dad had lifted it. It was strange. Although the engine looked like it was smoking, it didn't seem to be overheated. It smelled faintly sweet.

"Are you able to see what is wrong?" Hajime asked.

"Not exactly _see_," I said, almost humming, "but I can smell it. Your coolant is leaking out. From where, I'm not sure yet."

"Is it from the head gasket?" Ikraam asked.

"I wouldn't think so. Your engine isn't overheating," I remarked, "No wait! Hold on! I think I found the source of the leak."

I spotted a very minute crack on the side of the coolant reservoir closet to the engine.

"What is it?" Ikraam asked. "is it bad?"

"There's a small crack on the coolant reservoir, but nothing devastating," I said. "All you need to do is add epoxy to fill in the crack. But the engine has to totally cool down before we can do anything."

"I see," Ikraam sighed.

"I see, too. The crack, though small, is quite visible from this vantage point," chirped Hajime. Though wanting to laugh, I didn't.

It quieted down after that. Rather than wait inside my Aunt's house (where my father was), the three of us just sat at the base of the hill, listening to the drone of summer insects, watching woodland spirits walking up and down the dirt road. There wasn't any talking really, which was fine; there was nothing worth talking about. However, I was awfully curious about Ikraam, what she was doing here, who she was, what she did, how she came across Hajime. But that would have annoyed her, being barraged with stupid questions from a relative stranger.

"You in school, kid?" Ikraam asked rather suddenly.

"Yeah. I start my senior year the week after next," I replied glumly.

"And are you a bender?"

"I wish. But no. I'm not."

"Good."

"What?

"Bending is overrated."

"Why?"

"Presently, most of the elaborate, overly physical aspects of bending have rendered themselves impractical, and the outlets in which certain forms _do _prove themselves useful are diminishing with the advent of better technologies, better medicine. You get the idea. I can't help," she laughed, "but to think of Amon, you know? He thought that the path to equality was to rid the world of bending. We was incorrect, of course, because the dynamics of inequality and inequity are much more complex than he portrayed. I suppose what I'm trying to explain is...you don't have to go on a campaign to get rid of bending. You just need to make it obsolete."

I was stunned. How could she say that? In that moment, I could think of multiple professions where bending made the work easier, more efficient. Firefighters. Police Officers. Construction workers. Plumbers. Mechanics. Nurses. Doctors. Engineers. Artisans. Farmers. Search and rescue teams. And to think that this woman, who was saying these things about bending being impractical and obsolete, used waterbending. To save. My. Life! I could tell she sensed my shock.

"You think I'm nuts," Ikraam sighed. "That's fine. Perhaps we are just jealous of each other. You've likely had your share of instances where being able to bend would have been awfully convenient. Yet in my own life, bending has placed unneeded burdens on me. I'm sorry, kid. I've said too much."

"It's okay," I assured. "Say, Ikraam?"

"Yes?"

"Nevermind..." I said nervously. "I forgot what I was gonna ask."

Ikraam laughed, "Don't worry about it. It'll come back to you."


	7. Interlude: The Present Day

Interlude: The Present

_ "__Good afternoon, Minori."_

_ "__Ikraam? You're back early."_

_ "__I will explain _that_ later. So what have you been up to?"_

_ "__Nothing really."_

_ "__Well, whatever you're doing now sure doesn't _look_ like nothing."_

_ "__I'm_ _writing."_

_ "__Already getting ahead on your assignments?"_

_ "__Uhhhhm…Ikraam, why are you standing over my should—"_

_ "__So this is your homework?"_

_ "__Please don't read over my shoulder, Ikraa—"_

_ "_It was summer, and I was still sixteen. _You're writing a blog or something? A story?"_

_ "__Um. Sort of?"_

_ "__You didn't tell me that you write for fun, kiddo. May I continue reading?"_

_ "__I don't know, it's kinda rough. I still make edits to posts from time to time...Okay. Fine. You can read it. Don't do anything else to it, though."_

_ "__You have my word."_

_ "__I'm taking a walk. I need air."_

_ "__Enjoy…Okay, she's gone. Good riddance, how dare she call me _bug-eyed! _What a brat…"_


	8. Chapter 5

_In the hopes that I do not confuse the individuals that _have_ been reading this story, Minori will not be writing the next few chapters. My friend, poor girl, has been swamped with assignments, some of which she is behind on (such are the demands of her majors). Instead, I, Ikraam, will pen—technically type—the rest of this tale in her place until further notice. _

Chapter 5

Not long after Minori diagnosed the issues with my used Nomad, I recall sitting in the mechanic's auto shop. I had made great efforts to suppress any memory of the events that happened in between.

"It looks like you just need some 'poxy," the mechanic chirped.

_That's what I've been trying to tell you sir, _I thought to myself rather than uttering aloud. He continued, "It wouldn't hurt to clean out the reservoir, too. I won't charge you miss, for patching up the hole or anything else. Keeping with the holiday spirit, you know? Where'd you get this ol' Nomad from anyway?"

"I bought it Red Sands," I said, half-lying; the only honest part of it was where I had gotten the forsaken lemon.

"Red Sands? As in Red Sands in Ke Na?"

"Unless there's a Red Sands in the state of Tai."

"That's a long ways away from here. Middle of the damn desert. No wonder this old car barely held up!" the mechanic told me as he finagled with the inner workings of the Nomad. The moments that followed were saturated in silence. They were unremarkable, and not worth remembering. After some long while, the mechanic felt it was necessary to tell me the history of Oban, the village I happened to be in. If I can remember correctly, the village's eventual founding had something to do with Chin the Conqueror, the displacement of the Hitobito people, a small war with the region's original Luuhtu tribes, something over rice. I tuned him out eventually; his tone of voice was far too preachy for my personal tastes. In time—perhaps with the aid of telling his tale—the work on my vehicle had been finished. I thanked the mechanic for what he had done, and insisted that I pay him despite his earlier statements.

"You don't need to pay me. Really," he insisted. "Miss, I'm serious. Use the money for stuff you need. If you've traveled this far, you probably still got a ways to go. Besides,it looks like you could use a good meal, too."

"You would be right," I said with a slight, awkward laugh. The manner that he said _you could use a good meal_ made me squirm. It didn't help that the man already made me uncomfortable, in spite of his good intentions. I bade him farewell, driving away from the auto shop to first look for Hajime. Luckily I didn't have to look far. Hajime was waiting for me not even two car lengths in front of the Nomad. He waved.

"Haj," I hollered, rolling down the window, "get in!"

I put the car in park as I opened the sliding door for him. Hajime was much too massive to fit in the front passenger's seat, and his fingers too stunted to grasp the door handles.

"Thank you, Ikraam," the robot said glumly, sprawling himself out in the back section of the van. We parted the town, driving until it was dark and had reached a truck stop in the state of Baipu. The Nomad needed fuel, as did I. I couldn't recall the last time I had eaten where I was in full control of myself. The thought made me think of _Li_.

"I'm at number twelve," I said to the clerk at the gas station. "I'll also buy three samosas and that." I pointed at a compact disc on display behind the counter.

"_The End of the Road _album?"

"Yes."

"Huh! Didn't peg you as a fusion jazz type."

I do not recall the price I had to pay, but I do remember the feeling I had up at that counter, thinking I didn't have a copper to my name, only to realize I nearly gave the clerk a 100 yuan note. I also remember walking out of the store toward the Nomad with a samosa shoved into my face. That was until I took a sniff of exhaust. I nearly spat out the fried darling. The smells were that bad.

Another gap in my memory. Filling up at a gas station is a mundane task. As is eating. Passively listening to music can also fall into this category.

"Ikraam, you need to rest. It is getting late," Hajime mentioned at some point on the drive. We were on some winding road on the way to the border with United Republic. It was raining, pouring in sheets. Hail began to pound on the roof. No matter how loud the music was playing on the stereo, the storm outside was _that _much louder.

"Ikraam, we need to stop. The car cannot take it, and frankly, neither can you," Hajime said, urgent and stern.

"Don't talk to me that way!" I retorted.

"Ikraam, you returning to a healthy mental state will take time," Hajime said, his disposition eerily calm, human even. For three years at that point, I had had to put up with Hajime, his over-protectiveness, his drone speaking, his childlike trust in people. But because of those traits, I credit him with ensuring that I did not lose myself to _Li_. And though _Li _was no longer a problem for us, Hajime still, understandably, felt concerned about my welfare.

"Wait until we're down the hill," I insisted, my voice more relaxed. "It wouldn't be safe to pull over at the edge of a cliff in this weather."

"Fair enough."

What lucky timing then that the storm worsened. Even with the windshield wipers set at their fastest speed, I honestly could not see five feet in front of the Nomad. At least I could detect the glow of a not-so-distant town at the base of the valley. _Twenty more minutes and we'll likely be there,_ I hoped. _Find a nice secluded place to park the car. Doze off until either this storm passes or until the police ticket me for loitering…_

_haSSssssssskuhkukuku_

Lightning pierced the sky behind us with a sharp hiss, whiting out my mirrors, nearly blinding me. I slammed the brakes, causing the car to come to a screeching halt. It was a miracle that the car didn't glide off the road. _My Nomad, a miracle machine_, I smiled. Then I realized I now had a flat tire. _Ha! So much for that thought.  
><em>

"Ikraam, are you alright?" Hajime asked.

"Yes, thank you," I stumbled out of the car, not caring how wet I was becoming as I went to open Hajime's door, "How are you?"

"I am alright. Oh, and here is the spare tire. However, I do not think it is sufficient for our driving needs—"

_brkmBrKm_

"Haj, do you think you can help me?" I shouted over the growl of thunder. Lightning flashed in the distance.

"Perhaps. What would you like for me to do?"

_brkmBrKSsssskh. _The lightning's clap had reached us.

"Keep the car propped up and, do we have a flashlight? Good. I would like you to hold it."

With waterbending, I created an umbrella of sorts as I crouched down to inspect the tire.

"Flashlight!" Hajime exclaimed with childlike glee as he clicked on the contraption, its dull by consistent beam much preferred to the brilliant but erratic flux of the lightning around us.

"Ha ha, thanks," I said, using metal bending to loosen the lug nuts. "Haj, this would be the part where you lift the car. Just so. Yes, perfect!"

_KgRrRrhHoHOombrkmBrkm_

The thunder arrived more quickly this time. At least I thought it was thunder…

"Ikraam, we need to do this quickly. There was a mud slide just behind us," Hajime surprisingly sounded reserved, as if holding back his fear, a fear that we both shared. Within seconds, a river of mud gushed beneath us as I metal bent the spare tire into its place.

"I. Am going. As fast. As. I can," I said, tightening the lug nuts. "Haji, lower the car. Now. Please."

"Yes," and Hajime did so. We rushed back into the Nomad.

"Oh no!" I bit my lip. "My keys! Haji? Where are my k—"

As is almost always the case when witnessing a lighting strike, its wrath was seen well before it was heard. A group of trees had been struck. Despite the torrential rain, a fire had broken out, and was starting to spread along the hillside.

_KgRrRrhKgRrRrhkm_

The sounds of thunder rang in my ears as I watched the fire's advance. I sat there motionless in the driver's seat, contemplating my options, what I was supposed to do. But in my heart of hearts, I realized that I could not stare and watch the flames consume everything in their path. What if they reached the town? If anyone was injured, if properties were damaged, it would be fault. _I know I can do something about this._ It was settled then._ I cannot do nothing._

"What is the matter, Ikraam?" Hajime placed a hand on my shoulder. "I sense that you are troubled."

"Haj," I said like a whisper, then turned to face him, "I'm taking out that fire."

"I would not recommend such brash action. It has been a while since you have been able to access such power," Hajime said. "If you throw caution to the wind, you _will _get hurt."

"But Haji, it'll be hours before fire fighters are able to respond to this. And by then, it could be too late. I need to do this," I sighed, opening my door.

"Very well then. Just be careful," Hajime's voice faded as I walked out on to the road. The feeling of the rain and the hail pounding on my skin turned into nothingness. I was becoming _one _with my inner self, with the cosmos, with the energy and power of all those who came before me. For a moment for two, my feet did not even touch the ground. I closed my sort of basic sensation that I had had was gone. And yet, I seemed to be fully aware of my environment, my body, my thoughts, _everything_. It had been years since I had felt this way, this good, this alive. When I had opened my eyes, it was as if rays of light were emanating from them. My surroundings were sharpened and all aglow.

"It's good to be back," I smiled. To think I had forgotten how invigorating it was to be in the Avatar State!

Fashioning a hover board from the asphalt beneath my feet, I bolted toward the fire, creating an earthen barrier around the circumference of where the flames had advanced in an attempt to prevent them from spreading any more than it already had. But the ground below, saturated from the sudden downpour, was unstable, slipping, causing the barrier to buckle and crumble. Forming in a cushion of air to soften my landing, I set myself atop a section that hadn't been compromised in the landslide. After a deep breath, I drew up the excess water from the ground, both stabilizing the it and putting out the fire. Well...most of the fire. The tops of the trees, though, were still burning. It didn't help much either that it had stopped raining, despite the ongoing thunder and lightning (Thunder, it should be noted, always sounds louder when one is in the Avatar State.) Perhaps, with the air still humid, I could use _that _moisture to extinguish the flames at the trees' tips! Brilliant! But nature had other plans. There was a bolt of lightning about to strike one of the trees behind me. I propelled myself up with an air spout to redirect the lightning.

In that moment, I realized that I probably should have heeded Hajime's advice. Because of the high that I had been on from the being in the Avatar State for the first time in five years, I over estimated what I was able to sanely do; there was no possible way of me redirecting a lightning strike in midair! And with that, I brought myself out of the Avatar State, and back as my usual, human self. Not without consequence of course. Wielding such power, no matter how skilled one is, takes a massive toll on the body. As a result, I plummeted to the ground, somehow mustering enough energy ease the fall so I wouldn't break my back. All the while, I could see the surge of lightning sizzling through the sky like a charged spear.

To my surprise, it did not strike the tree.

* * *

><p>A pair of icy hands clutched at my shirt brought me back to consciousness. I was in the back of the Nomad, looking up at the depiction of once-renowned pinup model Lady O that had been painted on the ceiling of the vehicle, possibly by the previous owner. Based on what I caught from the corner of my eye, we were somewhere in the valley, but not quite yet in town. There was light outside, but by no sun. The world outside the car, from what I could determine, was quiet and brumous. I noticed that the sliding door was open, Hajime sitting with his body inside, and legs outside. He appeared to be admiring something. Within the car, I could hear the radio, but I wasn't actively listening to whatever the broadcast was.<p>

"I see that you are awake," Hajime duly noted. "You also have a rather thick coating of caked-on mud."

"Quite the contrary with the latter statement," I yawned. "I refer to this? As a healthy coating of dirt." For some reason, the statement sounded familiar.

"Ikraam, are you well enough to stand?" Hajime asked. I nodded. He implied that I get out of the car. He wanted to show me something, I could tell.

"So what is it?" I have Hajime a stern look. He pointed. I turned my head and could not believe what I saw. The barrier I had earth bent made for quite the landmark. The way the rocks jutted out of the hill, especially in the places that had caved in or given way, was beautiful in a rough sort of way.

"You did that," Hajime explained, "when you went into the Avatar State. I assume you remember?"

"I...I do," I giggled for some reason. "I didn't think that I had an artist's touch to saving the day, though."

We walked back to the Nomad.

"The door," Hajime pointed at the sliding door, "has not been able to close since after what you did. Last night. Do you remember that?"

"I can't say that I do," I said bluntly. Sitting down in the driver's seat, I decided to actually listen to the radio. Unsurprisingly, Hajime and I were not the only ones to notice my handiwork.

_"...it is currently unknown what forces were at play behind the formation of this structure. Stranger still is the condition of the trees in the surrounding area, being that they..."_

I laughed. I laughed and I could not even remotely figure out why.

"What is the matter, Ikraam?" Hajime placed a hand on my shoulder. "What is so funny?"

"I," I licked my lips, then said, "I'm not sure. Maybe I just need some rest. I'll figure out the door later."

"Sounds good, Ikraam," Hajime said. If that robot could smile, he would have been.


End file.
